


War

by Semi_problematic



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Flirting, Lust at First Sight, M/M, Power Play, Sexual Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-10
Updated: 2019-06-10
Packaged: 2020-04-23 20:50:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19158733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Semi_problematic/pseuds/Semi_problematic
Summary: Negan saw Carl as a badass and Carl wasn't one to disappoint.





	War

Carl had heard the women talk about him. How he was all smoke and leather. Baseball bats with sharp edges covered in half blood and half lipstick. Negan was like nothing he had ever saw before. They had witnessed evil. Murders in the name of love and in the name of hate. Murders for power. Negan was all different. Negan didn't have to kill for his power, but he chose to anyway. It was fun to him. Getting people down on their knees and crying. Begging. He loved watching them give in as they watched their loved ones die. 

Negan smelled of gun powder, rot, and expired cologne. He walked like everyone around him was bowing and from what Carl saw, they were. As Negan lead him through the several corridors of the Sanctuary, he cracked a joke. Said that when he made people get on their knees for Lucille, he was teaching them to bow. 

Carl wasn't sure what it was about him. He had gripped his gun on the way to him with every intention to shoot Negan in the head along with any other man who was there that night. Carl tortured himself with it. Relived it daily and burned it into his brain. When he closed his eyes he saw the darkness and the stale yellow glow of lights on their sweaty, tear and blood stained bodies. Carl still wanted to kill him. Cut him open with a knife that was just his size. Maybe make him obey the rules Carl had to. Still, despite all of that, the burning anger deep in his bones, Carl didn't make one move to hurt him. 

Instead, Carl followed him, watching him. His shoulders were rolled back and he stood straight, his baseball bat held in his hand loosely, like it didn't have the weight of his several victims. The wood was stained a dried, brown and red mix. Carl wasn't sure if the brown was the old wood or blood from someone months ago. Negan's leather jacket wrapped around his muscles, his glove catching the light. Whenever they passed, people bowed their heads and whispered. Carl wasn't sure if the rumors were about him or not. 

At the end of one of the several hallways they walked through was Negan's room. Two men stood outside, their eyes on the wall that stood before them. Negan walked past them without a word, passing his baseball bat to one and walking over the threshold. Carl followed, closing the door behind them. His room was decorated in several nice things, some being expensive paintings and others being the nicest furniture Carl had ever seen. 

Negan's home reminded him of a book he once read on the road. Carl couldn't think of the name but the man's name was Gatsby and life seemed to be perfect for him. He had big parties and lived in a mansion that everyone wanted to be at. Throughout the book Gatsby was suspected of doing terrible things to gain his fortune. Gatsby reminded him of Negan. A man who seemingly has it all but for a bloody price. 

Negan spread out on a black chair, his eyes on Carl. "Sit down." 

"You should have pat me down." Carl replied. He complied, sitting across from Negan, smiling as a knife pressed against his ankle and another pressed against his thigh. The weight and force wasn't something that startled Carl. In fact, the cool blade comforted him. The blade meant he wasn't at risk. He could take anyone out. Human or walker. "But even if you had I would've figured out another way to kill you." 

"That's cute." Negan grinned, foxlike. "Spent all this time following me around and now you decide to argue? What is it, kid? You love me or hate me?" 

Carl didn't even know, but the question didn't stun him. He had become a good liar. To survive one had to think fast and say what the person wanted to hear. In this case, Negan wanted Carl to be a smartass and argue. He is said it outloud. And if Negan wanted a brat, he was going to get one. "Hate you. That's why I came here and shot your men. That's why I have two knives on me that could do some wonderful things to a pretty face like yours." 

"If you hate me so much, why don't you do something about it?" He grinned. "No offense but your little scene outside didn't do much. Just killed two lazy ass men." 

Carl imagined what it was like to lose people and not have the group suffer. What it was like to have hundreds following you and not have to worry about the risks of being short. "That was only the start. I can get more creative if you would like." Throw him out the window. Cut him. Start at his limbs and work his way in. Scalp him. Use his own bat against him. Each thought was tempting, but so was the idea of staying and watching him. There was something about Negan simply being in control that Carl was fascinated with. And Negan noticed. Luckily, his ego was big. 

"Look, kid. Whatever you try, you gotta make sure I'm gone." Negan stood up, his shadow spreading across Carl's body. He towered over him, eyes glimmering in the bright sunlight that poured in through the windows. "Because if I'm not I will be coming back and I will be pissed as hell." 

"Why would I do it when you're expecting it?" Carl asked, crossing his arms. He tilted his head and eyed Negan. "Theres no fun in that. No one was expecting you to kill our people." 

"I sent enough warnings." Negan's eyes flicked between Carl's eyes and his body. He was searching for the knives. One which was tucked in Carl's boot and one which was under his boxers and jeans, the sharp edge digging into him. "Shoulda known better than to mess with me, boy. I'm not one for forgiveness." 

Carl stood up, his eye locked on Negan's. "And I'm not one for backing down and letting some power hungry killer boss me around." 

"Then..." Negan put his foot on the table between them and shoved it away, the table scraping across the concrete below them. "Why am I not dead yet?" He tilted his head to the side, creeping towards him. 

Carl could smell him. The mint toothpaste. The gun powder and crusted blood. Stale cologne. Sweat. "Because." Carl replied. He was thinking. Slipping. And Negan knew. "There was no good moment where I could take my time?" 

"You gonna gut me?" He was closer now. He didn't reach for a weapon and his hands weren't close to Carl's. "Stab me in the throat? Take my bat and beat me?" 

"No." Carl replied. "Nothing that you will be expecting." Glenn and Abraham didn't expect to be killed by the same weapon that took down walkers. 

"Mm." Negan thought for a moment. "Then... what are we waiting for?" 

"What's it like having to kill people to maintain power?" Carl asked. "That got no respect for you or something?" 

"No... they got fear..." Negan ducked down, his lips grazing Carl's ear. "And killing for it feels fucking amazing." 

In a swift movement, the blade that had pressed against Carl's thigh was against Negan's throat, tucked just beneath the line of his scruffy beard. Negan didn't budge. His breathing didn't falter and his eyes didn't go wide. He continued to look at Carl, blinking every few seconds. Then, Negan caused Carl to gasp, by leaning into it and allowing the edge of the knife to dig into his tan skin. 

"Predictable." Negan whispered, licking his lips. "You gonna whine about how I killed your friends now? Tell me how good revenge feels?" 

Carl scoffed. "Pulling a knife doesn't mean I will cut you or kill you with it. It'll just keep you at bay. Because you like me. And you-" Carl cut his neck with a shallow slash. "Want to see how all of this unfolds." 

"Wonder if I'll be surprised?" Negan chewed on his lip. The man was all to casual with a bloody knife against his throat. Blood trickled down his neck and onto his white shirt, staining it crimson. "Been a while since I've had my own blood on me."

"Never hurts to be put into place." Carl looked down at the blood. "Wonder how many more I can kill before I get home. I know my groups killed a lot... but I've only got two under my belt... maybe three." 

Negan reached out to touch Carl but Carl grabbed his wrist and gripped it, uneven and chewed on nails digging into his skin. Negan snarled, his hand shoving past and grabbing his hip before Carl pressed the tip of the knife against his chin. 

"Hands off." Carl said simply. "I am not one of those bitches." 

"Too bad. You got the legs for the dresses." 

Carl rolled his eye, shaking his head. "You have no idea what's coming, do you?" War. But not ones with guns and knives and blood. One with a man who has a blood stained shirt and a baseball bat. One with a man who is ruthless with everyone except him. One with a man who towers over him and knows how to control himself. 

"Show me." Negan whispered. His eyes fluttered closed but the smirk on his face did not falter. 

Carl pushed up on his toes and pressed his lips to Negan's, his eye closing. The knife was still firm against Negan's throat despite Carl milking his lips with breathy whines. He pulled away, smirking as Negan leaned in and cut himself. He backed away and turned around.

"I'll let myself out." He could feel Negan watching him. Once he was to the door he pulled it open and looked back at him. "Maybe keep playing with fire... but stop playing with knives."


End file.
